


Is Sand 'Boyfriend Material'?

by The Monster Lady (VisceraNight)



Series: While I Turn to Sand [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Reader Has Self-Confidence Issues, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 19:05:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisceraNight/pseuds/The%20Monster%20Lady
Summary: Reader tries to convince herself not to see Crocodile again and that there is nothing between the two of them.(spoilers: She does, and there is.)





	Is Sand 'Boyfriend Material'?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragon_MoonX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_MoonX/gifts), [Lisa_Lisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisa_Lisa/gifts).



> Dedicated to my dear friend Dragon, without whose encouragement I might not have ever gotten this finished, as I stopped several times to wonder what the fuck I was even writing.
> 
> Also dedicated to Lisa_Lisa who has been waiting for the next installment in this series.
> 
> I hope you two (and everyone else who is silently following the series) enjoy it~!

~ Is Sand 'Boyfriend Material'? ~

You are suffering.

Your body is starting to feel sore, overstimulated. Your frustration at not being able to get yourself off certainly isn't helping you in your quest for satisfaction. Nothing you've tried is working - not the techniques you've developed over the years, not the 'personal massage wand', not even your favorite scene of your favorite trashy romance novel.

Also not helping is the fact that every time you relax enough to let your mind start to wander, it always goes to the same place.

You've forbidden yourself from thinking about a certain person. Unfortunately, your self hasn't listened to you and insists on bringing up the memories of those two times you were with him.  _Yes, ok_ , you admit silently,  _it was some of the best sex I've ever had, and it's hard **not**  to fantasize about being with him again_. But you can't. You can't just show up at his place in the middle of the night because you're horny. You've fucked him twice; he's hardly your boyfriend.

You glance at the clock. Is it really that late? That means you've been at this for three god damn hours. You were so close, so  _fucking_  close, twice during all of this time. Both times, the feeling slipped away before you could finish.

Now you can't help remembering the way he reassured you ( _"it's fine; you're fine"_ ) and how he worked to make sure you got exactly what you'd needed. And, god, just the thought of him touching you again, just the idea of his hand gripping your hip and renewing those bruises that you'd worn for weeks, has you up out of bed reaching for your coat, and-

_Hell, I'm really doing this, aren't I?_

Yes, you are. Now that it's decided, you head to the bathroom and quickly clean yourself up as best you can. You put on a fresh pair of panties, but don't bother to change out of your nightgown, instead simply putting your coat on over it, and grabbing a hat to cover the rat's nest that is your hair.

Security stops you when you show up at the casino. Of course they do. It's the middle of the night. And you hardly look like someone who belongs here. The guards are arguing amongst themselves about whether your odd appearance and untimely arrival mean you're an agent of Baroque Works or just some crazy weirdo off the street, when a familiar clownish face pokes around the door.

"What's all the ruckus out here?" Mr. 2 asks.

The guards talk over each other as they gesture to you.

He seems to recognize you immediately. You've never seen the normally-flamboyant okama look so serious as he does in this moment.

"Yes, yes, come in," he says, seemingly ignoring the guards as he takes you by the elbow and escorts you past them into the building. He doesn't stop or let go of your arm until the two of you reach Crocodile's office. Crocodile isn't there, but you wouldn't expect him to be, considering the time.

After letting go of your arm, Mr. 2 takes out a den den mushi and makes a call. To his boss, no doubt.

Crocodile answers in his typical fashion.

"Someone better be dying."

"Ah, well, no. No one is dying, at the moment, but Miss Never is here and she seems quite... distressed."

There is a tense silence before the den den mushi goes inactive.

It takes a moment for you to realize that 'Miss Never' must be the code name that they use to refer to you. You're still silently marveling at the fact that you actually  _have_  a code name when Crocodile enters the office from the secret passage which you know from your previous visit leads back to his bedroom.

The warlord looks like he's about to murder someone, and you immediately regret your decision to come here. His gaze roams over you, taking in your disheveled appearance: your sweat-soaked hair, flushed skin, and the way you're pressing your thighs together awkwardly - all of which the hat and coat you've thrown on over your nightgown don't really do much to disguise.

His expression clears once he realizes the nature of your distress.

Crocodile opens his arms to you and says simply, "Come here."

You go to him, and he wraps you in a tight embrace. You let out a startled squeak as your legs are swept out from under you. It takes your brain a moment to catch up with reality. You weren't expecting him to pick you up!

"I'll just leave you two alone now~" Mr. 2 calls out cheerfully.

An awkward burst of nervous laughter escapes you as the okama pirouettes out the door.

You cling to Crocodile as he turns around and carries you to his bedroom.

After setting you down near the bed, he plucks off your hat and sets it aside. His fingertips brush lightly against your hair and suddenly it is dry. You'd almost forgotten about his Devil Fruit powers, and his terrifying ability to dehydrate things. Apparently it can be used for more innocuous purposes as well.

"I-" you start.

"I know why you're here," he says, as he pushes your coat off your shoulders. "I was wondering how long it would take you to give up on the pretense of business transactions and come to me just because you wanted me."

You pull your arms out of the sleeves and he takes the coat, subsequently folding it and putting it with your hat.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," you blurt out. "Even though I tried..."

Crocodile shrugs out of his own coat and sets it next to the pile of your clothes. Then he sits on the edge of the bed and beckons you to join him.

"Why try to deny it?" he asks, as you brace your hands on his shoulders and slide sideways into his lap. "You're obviously attracted to me. Were you afraid I'd grown bored of you so quickly?"

"It was only supposed to be a one-time thing," you say quietly.

His arm is around your waist and he can surely feel the way you tense up, as easily as you can feel the cool metal of his hook against your side through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

You're thinking of the other times you made this arrangement, and how each time after the 'special rate' deal you were invariably met with some not-so-subtle form of rejection. Some clients had cash stacked on the desk before you arrived, the message clear that it was back to business as usual. Some only conducted transactions through a secretary or other underling from then on. Some simply refused to meet with you again.

"It already  _wasn't_  a one-time thing last time," he says, nonplussed. "What made you afraid to come back to me?"

You hide your face against his shoulder and mumble, "It was supposed to be a business transaction. It's not like we're... dating... or something."

He lets out a heavy sigh.

"It was hardly a business transaction last time, either. You came back because you wanted what I'd offered you. And-" He leans down to nuzzle your hair as his hand slowly creeps under the hem of your nightgown. "-you came back this time because you couldn't resist any longer."

You spread your thighs, granting him access. This  _is_  what you came here for, after all.

Even though you put on clean ones before you left the house, your panties are already embarrassingly damp again. However, when his fingers make contact with the sticky fabric covering your folds and he growls approvingly, " _so wet for me already_ ," rather than being humiliated, you feel... wanted. Desired. God, how long has it been since one of your sexual partners has actually been interested in your body rather than whatever information you're withholding from them?

You lift your head, wanting to see what kind of expression he's making. Before you have a chance to get more than a brief glimpse of his face, he leans down to kiss you. You let out a startled squeak as his lips press against yours. It's the first time he's ever kissed you on the mouth. Apparently taking the noise you made as one of protest, he starts to pull away. You wrap your arms around his neck and give a soft moan as you return the kiss.

You whine as he slips his hand under the waistband of your panties, letting his fingers delve into your needy core. You've been on edge for so long that it doesn't take much for him to get you off. He breaks the kiss as the first spasm wracks your body. Your thighs clamp shut around his hand and all you can do is pant and cling to him as you ride out the tremors.

"So," he says, "you weren't afraid and of me, or of my enemies. You were afraid that I would reject you."

Wait, what.

It takes your brain a few moments to catch up, and once it does, you manage to grit out: "Are... you...  _seriously_  continuing this conversation right now?"

"Why not? You said before that an awkward conversation wouldn't stop you."

You groan and hide your face against his neck.

"Can I safeword out of this conversation?"

"No," he says flatly. "This conversation is not a sexual act, and we are having it because you apparently need our relationship to be clearly defined, so you can't 'safeword out' of it." He pauses. "Although if you want me to stop touching you, you're going to have to let go of my hand."

You part your thighs, but when he starts to pull his fingers out of your channel, an involuntary whine escapes you and your back arches reflexively. That orgasm a few moments ago took the edge off but you're still far from being satisfied.

Crocodile lets out a heavy sigh.

"Do you know how to listen? I said  _if_." His tone is half amused, half exasperated.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, still clinging to him.

"Don't apologize," he says. "And don't assume that you know what I want when I haven't explicitly told you."

"Sorry," you repeat, even though he's just told you not to apologize.

There are... issues... underlying your social awkwardness. Surely he's realized that by now.

"Anyway," he growls, as he starts to tease you with slow strokes. " 'Dating' is obviously not an accurate description for what we've been doing. 'Seeing each other', 'lovers', or 'together' would be more appropriate terms."

You lift your head so you can look him in the face. Does he really want to talk this out while he's fingering you? His expression is dead serious. You swear you will never understand this man.

Taking advantage of your change in position, he dips his head to lick and nibble at the sensitive flesh of your neck. You hum in approval and thread your fingers into his hair.

After a few moments, he pulls away and asks, "Have you been with anyone else since we started-"

You are shaking your head before he even finishes the question.

"Then we're 'seeing each other exclusively'. Does that work for you?"

At first you wonder why he's asking you this, but then you remember... you're the one who admitted earlier that not having a defined relationship is what kept you away.

"I... I..." you stumble over the words, hardly able to form a coherent thought as his fingers continue their steady assault on your core. You give up on attempting to speak and just nod instead.

"Good."

Then his mouth is roaming your neck again, kissing and licking until he finds a spot he seems to like. He bites down, not enough to break the skin, but much harder than the playful nibbles from earlier. It doesn't quite hurt, but you flinch a little as he sucks on the spot he just bit. That's definitely going to leave a mark.

"Are you close?" he murmurs against your skin.

You have to fight the urge to laugh. No. Nope. Not the reason you tensed up at all.

"Uh... not really, no..."

"Want me to eat you out?"

Ah, right. He likes doing that, you remember from last time, but it's not really your favorite thing.

"No, I..." You trail off nervously.

"Then how do you want to do this?"

He halts the movement of his fingers and slides his hand out from between your thighs, allowing your mind to clear enough for you to somewhat gather your thoughts. You glance around the room, checking to see if there is a space entirely free of furniture or other decoration.

"Against the wall?" you suggest, somewhat hesitantly.

He looks at you expectantly and you wonder if he wants you to provide more details than just a position, or if he is waiting for you to get up from his lap. He lets his arm fall from around your waist as you untangle your fingers from his hair. You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over yourself in the process.

 _What is balance? I've never heard of it_ , you think sarcastically to yourself as Crocodile reaches out to steady you.

"And, uh. Would you mind keeping your clothes on?" you ask awkwardly.

"I can," he answers. Although the raised eyebrow tells you he doesn't understand why you would want him to.

"What can I say?" you ask, shrugging. "I'm a sucker for a well-dressed man."

He smirks, and you wonder if he's thinking of the first time the two of you fucked, on the desk in his office.

You quickly strip off your nightgown and drenched panties, and make your way over to a blank patch of wall. Crocodile follows. He lifts you easily, pressing your back to the wall. Your hands reach up to grip his shoulders as you wrap your legs around his waist. You are a bit surprised when you feel his tip probing your folds. You have no idea when he undid his pants, and you  _almost_  laugh at the thought. He slides in easily, fully sheathing himself inside you in one smooth thrust.

"Fuck," you hiss.

"Did it hurt?"

Is that actual concern in his tone?

"No, it's good. God, I've missed this feeling."

Wait. Did you actually say the second part out loud? Oops.

He grins, and ducks his head to kiss you. He grinds his hips against yours in a slow rolling motion rather than thrusting. The weight of his body against yours - keeping you pinned firmly to the wall - is what's holding you up, more than the hand gripping your waist. His other arm isn't even touching you, its hook embedded into the wall next to you.

Trapped between the wall and your lover's body, there's not much you can do other than return his kiss. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you press your mouth to his with as much enthusiasm as you can. You moan low in your throat as you feel tension building at the base of your spine.

You pull your mouth away from his to beg: "Harder!" But Crocodile keeps his pace infuriatingly steady. "Please," you whine, clawing at his shoulders. "I'm so close!" If he wasn't a Logia-type Devil Fruit user, he would be taking some bruises of his own away from this encounter.

"I'll get you off, I promise." He speaks directly into your ear, his voice not low enough to qualify as a whisper, punctuating the statement with a sharp nip to your earlobe. "But I wouldn't mind hearing you beg more."

"Don't be an asshole!" you snap, sliding one hand up to tug at his hair.

He growls and sinks his teeth into your neck. You're not sure whether he dislikes having his hair pulled or if he's simply reacting in kind to your ill-tempered aggression.

"Come on, you know I like it rough," you whine. "I need to  _come_. Every time I've tried to get myself off lately, I ended up thinking about you, and-" You break off with a sharp cry as he finally picks up the pace.

"Please," you gasp out, only too happy to comply with his earlier request to hear you beg, now that he is giving you what you asked for. "Please, Croc-" That's as much of his name as you get out before his mouth slams against yours - cutting off any further speech with a rough, sloppy kiss.

Your climax hits you so quickly it almost catches you by surprise. Not surprisingly, it's stronger than the one from earlier, your inner walls clenching with an intensity you've rarely felt before. Your scream of pleasure is muted by your lover's mouth, which is still pressed over yours. You give a sharp tug on his hair and he pulls his lips away from yours, seeming to have gotten the message that you need to  _breathe_.

A few more harsh thrusts send him over the edge as well. You think you hear him call your name, but your hearing has gone fuzzy - the way it usually does after a particularly strong orgasm. Your limbs feel weak and noodle-y, and you're having a hard time keeping your eyes open...

You blink. It's morning. You're in Crocodile's bed. He's asleep next to you. Obviously you must have slept here, but you don't remember-

 _Oh, right_. It all comes back to you in a rush. You passed out last night immediately after you came. How humiliating.

Leaving while he's still asleep doesn't seem like the best plan, but it's what you _really_ feel like doing right now. You slip out of the bed, careful not to disturb him as you get up. You grab your nightgown and pull it on, but frown at the idea of putting those crusty panties back on, and stuff them into your coat pocket instead.

You glance around the room for your shoes, not knowing where you kicked them off at. Come to think of it, you don't remember which ones you were even wearing last night, either. Probably not your boots, because you would have just slipped on whatever was quickest on your way out the door.

"What are you looking for?"

You jump at the sound of Crocodile's voice. It looks like your escape plan isn't going to work out after all.

"My shoes."

"... you weren't wearing any."

~end~


End file.
